


When John Got His Priorities Right

by volvi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Breakfast, Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 05:51:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volvi/pseuds/volvi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once again John is late for work and once again Sherlock is the one to blame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When John Got His Priorities Right

It was the last week in October and London had yet to wake up. The alarm on one of the mobiles next to the bed showed 06:20. It had barely set off when a hand reached out to stop it. A short, quite tanned (all because of a case set in France two weeks prior involving an ice cream parlour and a hijacked car) ex-army doctor sat up ready to get his day going. Or at least that was his intention. See, getting out of bed isn’t that easy when a lanky consulting detective has – in his sleep, mind you – other intentions.

“Love, please let go of my pants.” Under the blankets Sherlock was muttering something, but John couldn’t really be sure since the detective only got halfway through his sentence before once again starting to snore. (Don’t tell Sherlock about this, the detective is really sensitive about those things you know.) Regarding any other person this would’ve meant that John could now sneak out of bed without further troubles, but even in his sleep Sherlock was more possessive than ordinary persons. “Sherlock, I will get up and get going no matter if you agree or not, so would you just let go of my pants.”

“No!”

“Sherlock, stop behaving like a five year old and let me get out of bed!”

“No! I won’t let you! Why do you have to leave, it’s Sunday and you’re supposed to be asleep with me!” Sherlock hissed underneath his cocoon of pillows and sheets.

“No, it’s Monday and I’m supposed to get ready for work. If you let me go you can continue to rest and I’ll put out some breakfast for you to eat later on when you feel like getting up.” By this Sherlock sat up and if John hadn’t been on a schedule he could’ve just stayed here, maybe forever, looking at the messy curls, alabaster skin and high cheekbones that together made up for his oh-so-childish-but-yet-so-sweet detective.

“Why would I want to sleep if you weren’t here?” Sherlock pouted. John leaned closer to peck his lover’s forehead while at the same time removing the grip of his pants.

“Go back to sleep love, I’ll be back before you know it.” That could actually have been just about true since he’d only set up for a five hour shift due to a colleague calling in sick the day before yesterday. The hope of Sherlock going back to sleep actually seemed to be fulfilled when he once again dropped down under the duvet. John seized the moment to leave for the bathroom and was pleased at the absence complaints. Although unfortunately that didn’t last for long since just about when the doctor was to start shaving a cranky detective decided to join him.

Sherlock sat down at the lid of the toilet, observing John through puffy eyes. “Good morning.” John smiled. “Joining me for breakfast then?” No answer. “I’ll take that as a yes.” With that the good doctor got back to applying shaving gel to his throat and face. When in the middle of doing his right cheek, Sherlock decided it was time to start speaking. In the beginning John had actually had a hard time getting used to the fact that more often than rarely a sleepy Sherlock was quite a quiet version of the otherwise so very talkative detective. Maybe he could try to embrace that characteristic during other parts of the day as well? For example during some evenings when all John needed was some peace and quiet instead of listening to his lover’s on the verge of maniac rant about some psychopathic child molester, thank you very much.

“You missed a spot.”

“What?”

“You missed a spot.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” John carefully removed the sparse hair just underneath his right ear. “Where else?” By now John took for granted that Sherlock would point out his shortcomings.

“No…”

“Good. Breakfast it is then.” John quickly put on some after shave and left for the kitchen. He toasted some bread and smeared a thick layer of jam on each slice. He then removed the crusts from two of them, Sherlock had always been partial to crust free toasts. He was just about fetching a couple of tea bags when it hit him that Sherlock was yet to leave the bathroom. “Coffee it is then.” John muttered. Exactly six minutes later John went back to his lover with a steaming cup of newly brewed coffee. “Black, two sugars, just as you like it.” Sherlock, eyes closed, reached out for the mug. While he sat there doing his best to wake up, John went back to their bedroom to get dressed. He couldn’t help but to smile when opening one of the drawers just to find both of their socks and pants neatly folded and set in some sort of index only the detective could understand. It was the fun thing about Sherlock, he couldn’t for his life keep the rest of the flat tidy, but when it came to clothes and beauty products things was set as it could be mistaken for a window display at Harrods. He got dressed in a pair of jeans (a little bit too tight for the doctor’s own liking, but since Sherlock had bought them for him there was something that still made them wearable), a vest and a plaid shirt. Nothing too fancy, but perfectly neat and proper for work. It wasn’t until the doctor sat down to eat his breakfast that he got accompanied once again.

“Thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime love.” John smiled, not looking away from today’s paper. He must’ve really got it right this time since Sherlock rarely thanked him for anything. (Except when it had to do with sex. Then the detective could be a little too thankful, something that actually made John a bit uncomfortable as well as worried, but let’s talk about that another time shall we.) Still without looking up, John pushed the plate with Sherlock’s crust free toasts at him. To his surprise the detective started nibbling.

“Call in sick.” John looked up and frowned. They had talked about how Sherlock had to stop stating everything as orders a hundreds of times already and yet he continued doing so. “Please.” John stopped frowning and went for a sigh instead.

“You know I can’t, I got to keep this work, we’ve talked about this Sherlock.”

“I could start taking paid cases.”

“You already are.”

“I could talk to Lestrade, asking for more money.”

“No you couldn’t, you’re way too proud for that and he wouldn’t be able to pay you anyway. And by the way, I enjoy my work you know. I get to help people and it’s the only thing that’s actually just mine.”

“No it isn’t.”

“What?”

“It isn’t. You got more things that’s just yours.”

“Yeah? Like what?” John got a bit annoyed at this, it wasn’t like he minded their lifestyle or anything, but Sherlock couldn’t seriously think it wasn’t all about him ninety nine percent of the time.

“Me.”

“What?!”

“You perfectly well heard what I said and I won’t say it again.” John couldn’t help but to blush, just for a bit, something he really hoped would go unnoticed by the detective. He shouldn’t had worried though, since the detective himself seemed to be looking everywhere but at the doctor at the moment anyway. Without meeting his eyes Sherlock continued. “If you decided to skip work I could show it to you.” John returned to his paper.

“Yeah? And how would you do that exactly?”

“Well…” Now they shared a look. “I would start by doing this.” And by _this_ John was pretty sure the detective meant the foot that had suddenly found its way up in John’s lap.

“Sherlock.” The doctor could feel his blood start going south. “Don’t get me hard just before I am off to work.” John looked up just to be greeted by a smug smile on his lover’s lips.

“Won’t I?” The smile grew broader. That git.

“No, you won’t.” John backed away from the table, although to his disadvantage the detective got very long legs and way too flexible toes, something which the doctor would’ve been more than happy about if it wasn’t for the timing. John had no choice but to stand up before things got too complicated. He took a look at his wristwatch, it showed 07:05. He had just about half an hour before he had to be off for work. A perfect amount of time for finishing his paper and doing the dishes. That seemed like a great plan, up until he could feel something stir behind him. Suddenly there was a warm breath in his left ear and a hand on his crotch. (Oh god, don’t get the doctor started on Sherlock hands. Have you actually seen how big they are? How soft? No, just don’t get John started on Sherlock hands because god knows he won’t stop talking.) It wasn’t until the hand started moving that the doctor knew he was done for. “Love, you got thirty minutes.”

It took fifty four.

* * *

 

“Shit! Shitshitshitshitbuggeringhellshit!” If you had asked John how he had ended up in his bed getting a blow job by a very smug consulting detective he couldn’t have answered you. All he knew was that he was late for work and the excuse of a lover who wouldn’t let go was as lousy as ever. While John ran around looking for his socks and shoes Sherlock was laying on the bed, smiling over how he had once again tricked his doctor into – as John so nicely put it – a morning shag. (Sherlock much more preferred the term ‘making love’, but he wouldn’t ever admit that. Not even after marrying the damn doctor.)

“Where the hell is my coat?!” Sherlock’s smile got even wider and he started counting. “Where the fuck is it?!!” One, two, three, four… “SHERLOCK!” Bingo!

In the beginning of John’s rant Sherlock hadn’t been idle. The doctor must’ve completely forgot that yesterday, after they had returned from the dinner at Angelo’s, things had gotten quite heated and therefore both John’s coat and Sherlock’s Bellstaff had ended up among the rest of their clothing in Sherlock’s bedroom. Hence, it hadn’t been all that tricky to slip the good doctor’s jacket under the bed when he had run around looking for his other things. Hence, John getting late for work. ( **Later**. He would’ve been late even with the coat at hand.)

“Give it to me!” The yelling had stopped but the ex-soldier’s posture still spoke of him being upset. Sherlock would’ve kept him at it if it wasn’t for the hands. If one were wondering whether or not it was time to stop joking one just needed to look at the doctor’s hands. If they were all closed and dense this was definitely not the time to tease. Therefore, even if against his will, Sherlock decided to be nice and reached for his lover’s jacket. Some kind of angry rant was to be expected, since he had so clearly kept it from him, but instead John just grabbed it while giving Sherlock a small peck on his lips. (Still swollen from snogging just a short while ago.) The doctor then ran out of the flat, down on Baker Street and dashed for the tube. Meanwhile, the detective was laying on their bed, smiling of the victory of once again getting John late for work.

Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> My second fanfic. It wasn't my intention to get sex into it all, but then it just happened. I blame Johnlock!


End file.
